


White Knight

by GoddessOfGanon



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, request fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12422727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfGanon/pseuds/GoddessOfGanon
Summary: An attempted burglary, impeccable timing, and unexpected confession.





	White Knight

You had been nodding off over an old tome that held more dust than it did direction in the latest work you’d been bidden to complete by the Countess. The sound, more of a slam, is ushered to the edge of your consciousness in a sudden snap, that you have to doubt if you heard anything in the first place.

Your disbelief is soon suspended by a shout, coming from the back room of your shop. You nearly fall from your stool, rushing over your own feet and getting ensnared in the beaded curtain leading to the hall. You grab a candle as you rush towards the backroom. It’s been burning all evening, causing the excess of wax to gush over your palm with the movement, a startle of heat eclipsed by the hot thrum of your heart against the walls of your chest. 

When you reach the back room, it’s it’s a blur of movement from all angles. The echo of the door you pushed open slamming against the back wall reaches your ears as there’s a break in the stir, and a pair of violent eyes meet your own. 

_“Asra?”_ You gasp, half the picture coming together at once. Your master, not due to return for another several days, on the floor of your shop wrestling with a shadow, something, _someone,_ you correct yourself, squinting in the dim light to distinguish any detail you're able. The cursorial figure, cloaked in black, tears away from Asra when his focus is broken, and dives through the door leading to the alleyway that wraps around the shop. The door heaves shut with a slam, disrupting the shards of colored glass littered across the floorboards. 

Shaking off the clumps of dried wax from your forearm, you tiptoe through the mess and haul Asra to his feet, questions tumbling fast from your lips as your racing thoughts seek an outlet that's working at half the speed as your racing heart. He has much less to say than you do to ask, however, as struck by the situation that he only seems to have an answer to a single of your queries. 

“Why did you come back? You said you’d be gone a week, at the least.”

“I wanted-” He coughs, disrupting some dust that had settled in his hair. “I wanted to surprise you.” He withdraws a parcel from his satchel and drops it onto the counter, an oblong thing wrapped in the parchment paper of the baker in the market place. The scent of it rises in the air; pumpkin bread. Your favorite. 

“I thought I felt a shadow today.” Asra continues, dusting off his tunic sleeves, his lip twisted in a sneer as he examines the smears of dirt, although you’re just thankful he’s better suited to a broom than bandages. “Yet, every time I looked over my shoulder, there was nothing. The feeling only stopped when I had begun to walk home, until I saw someone dart around the back of the shop just as I’d reached the front. I don’t think they made away with anything, but we should still take stock. I could tell from they way they moved that they knew what they wanted, they just hadn't found it yet.” 

“Do you think they were looking for this?” With shaking hands you withdraw the tarot cards bound in a purple silk wrap from your pocket. Asra’s deck.

His eyes narrow in thought and he begins to pace, mindful of the glass. “I’ve put enough locks on this shop to keep out the common man, and enough sigils for the uncommon one. My deck alone doesn’t warrant such efforts, it’s a simple set.” His eyes break from their revine and dart around you face, as if examining for injury. 

“Asra, you know I’m fine-”

“You.” He breathes, halting in his waltz. “They came here for you.”

You jolt, feeling the color drain from your face. A shudder passes through you, and the room feels much colder, then. Empty as it is when you’re alone and waiting wistless for your magician to return.

“A shop is just a shop.” Asra continues, stepping over a pile of glass shards to stand across from you. “Herbs and stones can be replaced. You, however,” He remarks, raising a hand to ghost a calloused thumb over the arch of your cheekbone. “You are a comet that passes but once in one’s life and if I turn my head too quickly I’ll have missed you entirely, having only caught a glimpse of your true brightness. Someone is seeking that brightness for themselves.” The shadow of something dark crosses his features, a flicker of crimson over violet eyes. For a second, he looks dangerous, and he never has before.

Color returns to your face in a blush, you feel it in a wave that makes you dizzy. It isn’t like Asra to speak in such declarations. Had the burglar shaken him that deeply? “You are being unsettlingly forthcoming, Asra. I’m used to hearing you speak in riddles.” He only shrugs, the worry in his brow uncreasing. 

“Hey, look at me. I’m okay.” You whisper. You raise your hands to cup his face, bidding he raise his eyes to meet yours.  _ “You  _ made sure of that.” 

“I feel there is so little I can do for you that you aren’t overwhelmingly capable of doing yourself.” His thumbs draw circles around your elbows as he holds you to him, speaking softly to the pocket of shadows you stand in, acutely aware of only the other. 

“Silly magician.” You tut playfully. “I do not need to search for reasons to keep you around. Having you here is quite enough for me. Lets me worry about you where I can see you.” You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, pleased to see the blush that your lips draw from his skin.

“I-” His words seem to catch in his throat. “I’m just relieved to see you’re not gone from me yet, before I’ve made up the nerve to tell you how esteemed I am of you. You truly are the brightest thing I’ve ever known.” He’s close enough that his lips brush yours as he speaks, and with a tilt of your head you silence his murmurings, drawing your mouth align to his. 

Asra’s lips are slow moving against yours, drawing out the shape and feel of you. With each shift you feel the warmth of his breath meet yours, reminding you in waves that  _ this is real,  _ you aren’t dreaming and the glittering shards of glass that crinkle beneath your foot when you step closer to him reminds you why this dream even started. Feeling daring, maybe a bit invincible after all that's occurred, you swipe your tongue across his lower lip, joining seamlessly to his own. It’s a combative waltz, of winding around each other until you’re connected at every point, every curve.

“Have you any truths for me? As I have been so . . . _ forthcoming,  _ I believe is the word you used.” He whispers huskily against your neck, passing up and down the column of your neck with quick, tugging kisses. 

“The truth? I,  _ oh,  _ do that again, please. Well, I don’t stop thinking about you from the moment you depart until the moment your reappear. I can't daydream when you're gone, you're all I see.” You confess, tightening your fingers wound in his hair as you tilt your neck to side to grant him further access. He hums encouragingly, adding more force to the sweep of his lips. “Your habit of bringing home trinkets and fleeting little fascinations from your travels is . . . nice, and they’re treasures to me, truly. Yet, having you with me here is the most I can ask for, hope for and dream. I love my shop, but you make it mine, being ours. You are everything I want paths leading home to lead to.” 

You hadn’t realized his lips had stilled over your skin, frozen in the pout of a kiss when your words had chilled his nerves, attuned them all to the breath falling from your swollen lips. He raises his head slowly, something unreadable, though nonetheless smouldering, behind his eyes. “These are your true feelings?”

You smile, a bubble of laughter rising in your throat. You lean forward and brush your lips against his, dizzy once more in the difference of a second. “Have I done  _ nothing  _ else with conviction?”

“I could always use some more convincing.” He murmurs hoarsely. You bring your lips to his once more, lingering this time. You twine your arms around his neck, curling into him. Asra’s hands roam over your back, bunching in the fabric of your tunic with restless hands, impatient with the layers that continue to separate you.

“You should stay,” You gasp once you break for air, arching into him with each hallowing breath. “In case they come back, I mean.”

His snowy eyelashes brush your cheeks when he lowers his gaze, and you feel his chest shake with silent laughter sprung in an excess of relief.  “Funny, I was just about to suggest the same thing.”

“And help me clean up this mess.”

“Certainly, darling.”


End file.
